Stitching it Up
by evitamockingbird
Summary: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR S4. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes walk back to Downton Abbey from the train station. They discuss secrets and old wounds.


**This story is inspired in part by the chelsie-anon prompt that many others have already responded to, but especially by the end of 04x02, which simply cries out for fanfic continuations to be written. I think I would have written this with or without the chelsie-anon prompt. Mine starts out a little differently than it does in the prompt. I don't think it matters much where it came from, though, except that it could not have happened without the incredible Phyllis Logan and Jim Carter. I hope you enjoy my contribution to the recent spate of post-train-station Chelsie fics. Have a lovely day!**

"Mr. Carson? Shall we...walk back together?"

Mr. Carson said nothing, answering instead with a nod and a motion of his hand. She crossed in front of him and he took his place between her and the railway tracks. They continued in silence off of the platform and out of the station, Mrs. Hughes glancing occasionally at him as he stared straight ahead, trying to gauge his mood. He was not avoiding her eyes, but he was deep in thought, and as they walked through the village he nearly forgot where he was. Mrs. Hughes was respectful of his silence. She had done a great deal of pushing in and interfering recently, but at this particular moment she would hold sacred his desire for speech or silence. If he wished to speak, she would listen, but if he chose to walk the rest of the way to the house without a word or a glance in her direction she would not fault him for it. She did not know all that had passed between him and Mr. Grigg just now, but it had given Mr. Carson a great deal to think about; she could see that much well enough.

Decades of walking the same route from the station to Downton Abbey kept his steps sure while his mind was elsewhere, but when they reached the edge of the village, where the path to home turned lonely, Mr. Carson once again became aware of his surroundings and the woman walking at his side. He realized how fast he had been walking, and slowed to accommodate her, though he knew she never had difficulty keeping up with him, even when he walked at full speed. Mrs. Hughes noticed the change in his pace and looked up at him again. He was still facing forward, but she could see that his eyes seemed to be actually focusing on their environment and that his gait had relaxed a bit. He would be well again, and she was glad. Her own shoulders relaxed, the tension that she had not realized she was carrying draining from her body. A little smile of relief hovered on her lips and she looked at the surrounding countryside. A beautiful day was well underway.

"Mrs. Hughes."

She looked up at him. "Yes, Mr. Carson?"

"Thank you for saying what you said to me yesterday." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I've been able to lay some things to rest this morning."

"I'm glad," she answered softly. "And for what it's worth, Mr. Carson, I _am_ sorry that I upset you. It wasn't my intent."

"Thank you. I didn't think that it was. But why did you do it?"

"I told you," she reminded him. "I could see how much the letter had upset you."

"But taking it out of my wastepaper basket and reading it? Please don't think I'm still angry, Mrs. Hughes, but I simply do not understand."

"It was the only way I could think of to find out what was wrong. You would never have told me yourself, so I resorted to tricks," she admitted, giving a little shrug.

Mr. Carson's step faltered for just a moment and his brow furrowed as he returned her gaze. "Tricks," he said absently, turning away from her and facing forward, seemingly lost in his thoughts again.

"Perhaps if I were a better or cleverer person I would have discovered another way, but I did not." She sighed. "I know I can't expect you to understand, Mr. Carson, but I do hope you will forgive me for it."

"But I _do _understand, Mrs. Hughes," he said, still not looking at her. "That is, I think I do."

"Do you?" she asked, surprised.

"I was behaving strangely and you were worried."

"Well, yes, but-"

"Something like that happened to me a few years ago. I was worried about a friend of mine." Mrs. Hughes scrutinized Mr. Carson's profile, trying to understand what he meant. Something from her memory was tickling at the edges of her conscious mind when he surprised her by stopping and turning to face her, urging her with the briefest touch of his hand to her arm to do the same. "She wouldn't say what was wrong and I found myself doing much the same as you did."

Realization suddenly dawned on Mrs. Hughes as she stood in the road with Mr. Carson. She wondered if he still thought she had not known what he was about. "Yes, you did. Though you tricked poor Mrs. Patmore into telling your friend's secret rather than rifling through crumpled papers. Isn't that right?"

Mr. Carson started a little. "You knew?"

She smiled a little. "I did. You were rather obvious about it, but it was her ladyship who gave you away, though she never mentioned you by name. I knew Mrs. Patmore would never have approached her about it, and her ladyship assured me that Dr. Clarkson hadn't broken a professional confidence."

"I'm sorry to have been so clumsy about it, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson said. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's all right," she said softly. "It was nice to know you cared."

"I did care," he said, looking into her eyes. "I do care."

Mrs. Hughes felt as though all of the breath had left her body, but she met his gaze with self-possession. "Just as I do for you."

"Mrs. Hughes, I'm going to repeat myself and again ask you why," Mr. Carson said, looking at her very seriously.

"Why what?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

He hesitated, before speaking very softly. "Why did you not tell me?"

"I- I didn't -" Mrs. Hughes paused, unable to continue. Her eyes glistened with tears at the memory of those weeks of suffocating anxiety. It was hard to remember her reasons for hiding it from him.

Mr. Carson pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it into her hand, but he remained where he was, still waiting for an answer.

"I didn't want you to see me weak," she said at last. "I didn't want _anyone_ to see me like that. I didn't want to _be_ weak."

Mr. Carson's face relaxed into a sympathetic half-smile. "I don't think you could ever be weak, Mrs. Hughes. You're the strongest person I know."

She allowed herself for a few moments to be pulled into the dark eyes that now studied her intently. Some invisible force separated her heart from her body, leaving the latter where it was and drawing the former deeper into his eyes. She loved him, and most of the time she kept it hidden, expressing her feelings in what small ways she could - scolding and teasing and worrying - but something was different about this moment. They were standing face-to-face in the middle of a quiet road somewhere between the village and the house, speaking of secrets kept after he had made peace with his old adversary. Mrs. Hughes felt somehow a little more loosely laced than usual, and just for now she was not afraid to stare openly. She felt as though she were falling headfirst into a swirling river. She tried to think of something to say. He had spoken last, so it was her turn. What had he said? She could hardly think.

"Mr. Carson, I..."

"You could have talked to me, at least once you knew that I knew," he interrupted. "Perhaps I could have given you some comfort in your distress."

She wiped the tears away as they slid down her cheeks. "I think you could have done," she said softly.

"Then why-"

"Mr. Carson, I don't think I could explain any further than I have."

He flinched almost imperceptibly at her words, though they were not spoken harshly. Mrs. Hughes could see that he thought she was firmly closing the subject, that he was being dismissed. "You misunderstand me, Mr. Carson," she said quickly. She started to reach out for his hand, but dropped her arm back to her side before she had made contact.

"Do I?"

"All I mean is that I am not sure anymore exactly why I kept it from you," she said, willing him to come back to her. He had not moved away in body, but his eyes had withdrawn from her. "And I think you should know that were the same thing to happen again now I believe I would act differently."

At this his eyes were back on hers, caressing her face once more, roaming her features in search of reassurance that she meant what she said. She smiled and he seemed to relax.

"What's changed?" Mr. Carson asked. "Why would you tell me now, when you wouldn't then?"

"I'm not sure I could say," Mrs. Hughes answered. "Something has changed, but I don't know if I could explain it."

"But you do know what it is?" he asked dubiously, as he considered her.

Mrs. Hughes was silent. She looked away and bit her lip. She didn't want to lie to him, but she didn't think she could possibly answer his question truthfully, not aloud at least.

"Mrs. Hughes, when I told you that I felt Alice Neal had treated me badly, it was because she left me and went off with Mr. Grigg."

Mrs. Hughes raised her head to look at him. She was perplexed by the sudden change of subject, but Mr. Carson's resentment toward his former song-and-dance partner was beginning to make more sense. She nodded, resolved to listen rather than speak.

"He told me this morning that she was dead, but that before she died he had gone to see her and she told him that I was the better man, and that she could have loved me."

Mrs. Hughes felt her heart break for him. Deep down, she wanted him for herself, but she was not a jealous woman, and to know that he was in this sort of distress made her ache for him, even though his sorrow was born of his love for another woman. "I am so very sorry, Mr. Carson," she said gently.

He nodded and was silent for a while. "The odd thing is that I'm not nearly as sorry as I would have expected to be. I am sorry she is dead, of course, but to know that she did love me… Truth to tell I feel like I ought to be more angry and frustrated. Like I was when it first happened. And more regretful of what might have been."

"I suppose a great deal of time has passed," Mrs. Hughes mused. "You've been able to let some of your grief go."

"But it's more than that, Mrs. Hughes," he insisted, stepping a little closer to her, his eyes gently but determinedly drawing her in once more. Her knees began to feel weak and she hoped the conversation would end soon so they could return to the Abbey. There wasn't a bench in sight and she did not fancy the idea of having to sit down on the ground, or worse, falling down. If she fell into his arms it might not be so dreadful, but -

"Things have changed for me, too, Mrs. Hughes. Sometime after Alice left me, and sometime before this morning's revelation, something happened. I'm not sure exactly when, but it happened, and it's changed so many things." He was looking at her so intently that her legs did, for just a moment, become unsteady under her. It was almost imperceptible, and she regained her equilibrium almost immediately, but he noticed, and he caught her by the arm. "You need to rest a bit, Mrs. Hughes. We should find somewhere for you to sit down." He tried to tuck her arm into his and walk on with her, but she did not move.

"Mr. Carson, what's changed?" she demanded, speaking quietly but very firmly. "Tell me what's changed and then I'll go with you. What is it that's happened between then and now?"

Mr. Carson turned back to face her. A number of emotions played across his face as he moved his hand down her arm until he held her gloved hand in his. There was melancholy, tenderness, and resignation in his eyes all at once, and Mrs. Hughes could make no sense of it. His words hinted at one thing, but his eyes seemed rather sad, so she doubted she understood.

At last Mr. Carson spoke. "What has happened is that I fell in love with another woman, a woman who, if she loves me, I know will never abandon me." He watched Mrs. Hughes's face with the gravest of expressions.

She put Mr. Carson's handkerchief to good use again, for her tears were now flowing freely, but a brilliant smile had broken out on her face. She knew now that she had not mistaken his meaning. Mr. Carson seemed to understand the significance of her smile as well, for the melancholy and resignation in his eyes were replaced by joy and relief. The tenderness in his eyes remained the same, however, and Mrs. Hughes was so much affected that her knees felt weak again. This time, however, Mr. Carson supported her by drawing her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers absently playing with the hair on the back of his head, and rested her cheek on his chest, while he held her around the waist, resting his cheek against her temple.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you, too," she whispered back.

They stood together like this for a minute or two, just listening to each other's breathing, savoring the warmth of a long-anticipated embrace. Mrs. Hughes was first to break the silence.

"I suppose we had better be getting back," she said regretfully.

Mr. Carson gave a small sigh. "Yes, you are right."

They disentangled themselves and Mrs. Hughes turned to walk toward home again, but Mr. Carson caught her arm. "Wait," he said.

She only looked at him questioningly.

He stepped nearer and pulled her close with an arm around her waist. With his other hand he caressed her face. He looked into her eyes. "May I?" he breathed. She nodded and he lowered his lips to hers. She closed her eyes to receive the kiss she had been imagining for years. Perhaps he had, too.

Mrs. Hughes had kissed a few men in her life, and one or two of them had been good at it, but this was so very different. It was a bit like what she felt when she let her heart be pulled into his eyes, only when she kissed Mr. Carson she felt as though both her body and her heart were drawn with magnetic force into him. Her body was not her own as it pressed closer to him, her fingers burying themselves in his hair. She had sometimes wondered if she were too old to feel this kind of desire for a man, but was glad to find that she most certainly was not. If anything, she felt young again, and by the way he moved and breathed, it seemed Mr. Carson did, too. When they pulled apart briefly to catch their breath, Mrs. Hughes began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Mr. Carson asked.

"Nothing," she replied. "I'm just so very happy."

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "Mmmmm," he hummed contentedly.

"Now you've had your fun, Mr. Carson, I really think it's time for us to be getting back."

"I've had my fun? And here I was thinking you enjoyed it as well," he teased.

Mrs. Hughes blushed. "Regardless of all that, we should go."

"Very well," he said good-humoredly, offering her his arm. She took it with a smile. "But we must talk seriously, Mrs. Hughes."

"Yes, we must. But I think you might call me Elsie. When no one else is about, of course."

"Come to my pantry tonight, then, Elsie. I believe I can arrange for something fine for us to drink."

She smiled up at him. "That sounds lovely...Charles."

He placed his free hand over hers, where it rested in the crook of his elbow, and squeezed it lightly.

Mrs. Hughes thought now on how different her feelings were when she left the house from how they would be when she walked back through the door. Earlier this morning, she had not given up all hope that Mr. Carson would turn up at the train station, but she had still thought it very unlikely. She was glad that Mr. Grigg had found employment and seemed to be making an attempt to live a decent life, but she had felt sad at the thought of Mr. Carson missing his last chance for reconciliation with his former friend. Now she was happy, as happy as she'd ever been. She glanced at the man walking beside her. She could only imagine what might have been going through his mind as he left Downton Abbey this morning. He had perhaps doubted whether he should go at all, perhaps had still been angered by her interference in his affairs. She could not _always_ read his mind, but now his step was lighter than it had been in some time, and he wore a smile that she rarely saw.

As the Abbey came into view, Mrs. Hughes sent up a silent prayer of thanks for Mr. Charles Grigg. His appearance in their lives at this time had caused some strife, but it had also helped bring Mrs. Crawley back to life, and had brought together two people who needed and loved one another. Perhaps it would have happened even if Mr. Grigg had not turned up, but she was glad all the same that he had. Mr. Carson's old wound would finally heal, and they would love each other. It was a beautiful day.

_The End._

**Thanks for reading. Please review if you have a moment!**


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